Meanwhile Hornbeck, being
awaked by the repeated efforts of his man, no sooner understood
that his wife was missing, than all the chimeras of jealousy taking
possession of his imagination, he started up in a sort of frenzy,
and, snatching his sword, flew straight to Peregrine's chamber;
where, though he found not that which he looked for, he unluckily
perceived an under-petticoat, which his wife had forgot in the
hurry of her retreat. This discovery added fuel to the flame of
his resentment. He seized the fatal proof of his dishonour, and,
meeting his spouse in her return to bed, presented it to her view,
with a most expressive countenance, "Madam, you have dropped your
under-petticoat in the next room."
Mrs. Hornbeck, who inherited from nature a most admirable presence
of mind, looked earnestly at the object in question, and, with
incredible serenity of countenance, affirmed that the petticoat
must belong to the house, for she had none such in her possession.
Peregrine, who walked behind her, hearing this asseveration,
immediately interposed, and pulling Hornbeck by the sleeve into
his chamber, "Gadszooks!" said he, "what business had you with that
petticoat? Can't you let a young fellow enjoy a little amour with
an innkeeper's daughter, without exposing his infirmities to your
wife? Pshaw! that's so malicious, because you have quitted these
adventures yourself, to spoil the sport of other people.
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